Mahendra's demeanour. He again drew Asha's face on to his breast and lightly passed his finger through her hair loosening it as he did so. When Mahendra had done this before, Asha had objected. To-day she nestled closer to him thrilled with gladness at his touch. Suddenly she felt a tear drop on her forehead, and Mahendra in a choking voice called: "Chuni!"
Asha made no reply but silently pressed his hand with her soft fingers.
"I have been in the wrong," said Mahendra, "forgive me."
Asha stopped him by placing her flower-petal palm over his mouth. "Don't say that!" she cried, "you've done nothing wrong, the fault is mine, chide me as you would your servant, make me worthy of sitting at your feet."
Before getting out of bed in the morning Mahendra said: "Chuni, my jewel, I'll always wear you next my heart that none else may get past you and enter there."
Asha, with a firm resolve to make every sacrifice for her husband's sake, nevertheless put in one little claim of her own. "You'll write to me, won't you?" she said.
"You too?" asked Mahendra.
"Do I know how to write?" protested Asha.
"Your writing would be pleasanter reading than the best of authors!" averred Mahendra pulling the little wisp of hair straying over her ears.
"Oh, don't tease me about my shortcomings," Asha pleaded.
Asha did her best to arrange Mahendra's portmanteau for him before his departure. Mahendra's thick winter clothes refused to be folded and accommodated within its limits, and what ought to have gone into one box filled two; and even then some things were left over to be tied up into a separate bundle. Asha was ashamed at the result; but the struggles and disputes and laughing recrimination which accompanied the process reminded them of old times. For the moment Asha quite forgot that the occasion was a parting.[1] The servant boy had several times brought word that the carriage was ready, but Mahendra paid no heed, and at last he angrily ordered the horse to be unharnessed.
It was only after the morning had passed into noon, and noon into evening, that, with many a parting admonition about not getting ill, and many a reminder about regularly writing letters, they actually separated.
Rajlakshmi had left her bed a couple of days ago. With a thick wrap round her she was having a game of cards with Binodini. Mahendra entered and without glancing at Binodini said: "Mother, I am on night duty at the hospital now. It's not convenient to be staying all this way off, so I've taken some rooms near the college. I'm going to live there from to-night."
Rajlakshmi took this sudden intimation ill; and said coldly: "Well if it's standing in the way of your work I suppose you must go!"
Though she was really quite convalescent the thought of Mahendra's leaving made her imagine herself ill and weak again. "Will you give me that pillow, child," she said to Binodini; and, as Rajlakshmi fell back on it, Binodini began to gently stroke her body with her hands.
Mahendra tried to feel his mother's pulse, but she drew away her hand saying querulously: "What can the pulse tell? You needn't worry about me, I'm all right." And as if with a great effort she turned over to the other side.
Mahendra without a word of leave-taking to Binodini, took the dust of his mother's feet and went away.
"What can be the matter?" wondered Binodini. "Is he angry, or afraid, or only showing off? He wants to show me he doesn't care? Well, let's see how long he can stop away!"
Binodini also thought she did not care, nevertheless she was disturbed in mind. She had delighted in goading Mahendra with many a prick, in keeping him in hand with many a bond, and the want of that occupation now made her restless. The house had lost for her its only excitement. Mahendra had lighted in her some flame, but she could not tell whether it was envy or love or partly both. "What woman was ever in such a plight?" she asked herself with bitter humour. "I know not whether I am the hunter or the hunted!" Whatever the real reason may have been, she wanted Mahendra, and with heaving breast kept on repeating to herself: "Where
- ↑ The parting was as real as if he had gone out of town, for etiquette would prevent the ladies of the house paying any visits to the students' quarters.
